


the sun will come up, the seasons will change

by nineteenohtwo



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, One Shot, Skiing, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:41:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineteenohtwo/pseuds/nineteenohtwo
Summary: “Where are we? What is this?” Cyrus asked.“This is an emergency cabin,” TJ said, taking off his boots, coat, helmet and gloves, trying to turn on the central heating system in the middle of the room. “We’ll be here for a while.”“A while?” Cyrus repeated, also taking off his outer wear, “How long is a while, TJ Kippen?”AU where Cyrus and TJ get caught in a blizzard on a school organised ski trip, and have to stay in an emergency cabin together for a couple of days





	the sun will come up, the seasons will change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tyrus-time (itgrowslikeafire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itgrowslikeafire/gifts).



> bad language! oops!  
> title is also the title of a Nina Nesbitt song

“Push the points to each other, Cyrus! Lean forward! _Lean forward, Cyrus!_ You’re going way too fast, God- Fuck! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cyrus said from the ground, throwing his legs over his head, like TJ taught him, so he would be able to get up on his feet, “I really don’t get what I did wrong _this_ time.”

“You don’t lean forwards. Like, at all. I have told you to lean forward _how many times already today_?”

“But when I lean forward I suddenly go too fast and crash!”

“No. If you lean backwards like you’re doing right now, you lose your balance and crash, especially with these strong winds.” TJ said, extending his stick towards Cyrus, “Now get up. We’re doing that again.”

Cyrus took TJ’s stick and hoisted himself up on his skis. The practice slope they were on was deserted, the only people that had been here and there teaching their tiny kid how to ski had already left hours ago when the wind started acting up.

TJ hadn’t even allowed him to rent sticks of his own, saying that he needed to get the basics down first, before he started depending on sticks.

Cyrus felt like the only teenager in the world who didn’t know how to ski, or snowboard, or whatever the fuck people do in the snow. It had never made sense to him why people willingly go skiing, and risk breaking an arm or a leg for what exactly? Going down a hill fast?

He had almost laughed in TJ’s face when he asked him to come along on the week-long school ski trip, shivering at the mere thought of having to go down a slope. It wasn’t until after he saw all of his friends signing up for the trip one-by-one, _and_ TJ promised to teach him how to ski, that he had also, reluctantly, signed up for the trip.

He was regretting it like no bad decision he had ever made before.

His thighs were sore. His shins hurt like hell. He was wearing a ridiculous rental helmet – the only one that the shop had left in his size was neon-blue with piss-green and pink stripes – his gloves were wet from falling so much, he was sweating profusely, and to make things even worse, he was _cold_.

“I’m never going to learn, TJ,” Cyrus sighed, taking World’s Ugliest Helmet off, but leaving his ski goggles on, as TJ had told him to do at the start of the day. “This is hopeless; we should just head back to the hotel.”

“This is your first day, Cyrus! What did you expect? That you would jump on your skis for the very first time and fucking zoom off like you’re James Bond?” He awkwardly shuffled upwards on the slope, so he could give Cyrus an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You just have to practice. When we’re down the slope I’ll buy you a hot cocoa.”

Cyrus sighed, pushing his feet into the triangle position TJ had taught him, doing his very best to lean forward and bend his knees, because TJ had stressed the importance of not skiing with straight legs. He noticed that it was kind of easier to go down the hill at a reasonable pace, and almost felt good about himself, until he noticed TJ to his right, speeding down with his knees and skis pressed together, as if it cost him no effort at all, before stopping a good fifty meters ahead of Cyrus.

“You’re doing great, Cyrus! Look at that ladies and gentlemen! He’s gracious! He’s fast! He… has crashed. Are you okay?”

“Peachy keen,” Cyrus grumbled, scrambling back onto his feet. He looked up at the sky, and even with his goggles colouring everything yellow, he could see that the sky seemed to be turning all white, and the wind that already had been strong had picked up even more, “TJ, maybe we should get going.”

“What?” TJ looked up at the sky and cringed, “Yes, we should really, really get going. Like, now. I think we’re in a blizzard, that’s not great, that’s _really_ not great.”

Cyrus took off, trying desperately to focus on his technique and _not fucking falling_ , and trying even more desperately to ignore the mess of white above and around them, and the snow that was already falling, and blowing around.

TJ stayed by his side, skiing a lot slower than he probably would in this situation.

“God, I can’t fucking _see,_ ” Cyrus yelled, panicked.

“Focus on me, Cy, don’t freak out.” TJ yelled, “it’s just whiteout from the wind blowing the snow around. Follow me.”

And he followed TJ, fighting against the wind to stay upright. TJ suddenly made a sharp left turn, and Cyrus followed, almost face planting, but because of a miracle just avoided it and blindly following where TJ was leading him. They stopped at a small brown cabin that Cyrus otherwise would not have noticed in his panicked state.

“Quick, Cy, take off your skis,” TJ yelled, already holding his pair and pushing against the door, granting them access. TJ waited for him, holding open the door. Cyrus took his skis off at lightning speed, dragging them inside.

The interior of the cabin was extremely basic, just brown wood and stone, a couch, some closets, a double bed, a tiny kitchen and a door, presumably leading to the bathroom.

“Where are we? What is this?” Cyrus asked.

“This is an emergency cabin,” TJ said, taking off his boots, coat, helmet and gloves. He started to bang on the central heating system that was attached to the wall under the window. “We’ll be here for a while.”

“ _A while?_ ” Cyrus repeated, also taking off his outer wear, “How long is _a while_ , TJ Kippen?”

TJ gave the heater a violent kick, after failing to turn it on, but seemed satisfied after he flipped a switch and it turned on, producing a low zooming sound that filled the room.

“Three hours at least. Could be days.”

“Fuck,” Cyrus huffed out, taking off his fleece shirt and hanging it on the back of the couch to dry.

He walked to the kitchen and started to open the cabinet, relieved to see one stocked with bottled water, another one with mugs and plates, and all of the other ones with canned food, soup packets, crackers and tea bags.

“You want tea?” Cyrus asked, deciding to make the best of the situation, looking through the boxes of tea “there’s chamomile, another box of chamomile, and... so, yeah, we’ve only got chamomile.”

“Yes please,” TJ said, looking through one of the closets, and taking out a box filled with fuzzy blankets and another one with dry clothes. “Got some dry clothes here, when you’re done.”

TJ took a pair of ragged grey sweat pants from the box, as well as a big, white knitted sweater. He quickly stripped out of his wet clothes and redressed in the dry ones. He hung his clothes next to Cyrus’ to dry, and joined him in the kitchen, where Cyrus was boiling water.

“Have you tried calling Buffy, or one of the others?” TJ asked, “Scratch that, maybe we should call a teacher.”

“I don’t think I have the teacher’s number, but my phone is in my coat, if you want to call someone you can use it.”

“Great, because mine is dead,” TJ said, picking Cyrus’ massive coat up from the floor and searching the pockets, and taking out Cyrus’ phone.

Luckily, the phone was still on 89%, because Cyrus had actually bothered to recharge it the night before, unlike TJ who had been tired as hell after the bus ride and had just crashed on his bed.

His background picture still was a group picture they had made a couple months before at a fun fair, all of them tangled up in a massive group hug. Amber, TJ, Andi, Buffy, Amber, Jonah, Walker, Marty and Cyrus had gone off and had a group outing, just walking around, eating and playing games, and had asked a random lady to take a picture of them.

It had been one of the best days.

Very much unlike the situation they were in now.

TJ went to Cyrus’ contacts and pressing _call_ on Buffy’s contact, who picked up after it rung two times.

Cyrus could hear TJ talking while he made tea.

“Yes, we’re fine. We made it to an emergency hut a mile or so down the slope I took Cyrus to. Yeah, just after the blizzard started. He’s doing fine, a little shaken maybe… How long? Alright. No, no, we have food here. Yes, please alert them. I’ll call you later.”

“So?”

“She’s glad we’re not dead, and it’s expected that the blizzard will keep us here for at least two more days, and she said that we’re absolutely forbidden to go outside unless they come get us.”

“Could be worse,” Cyrus said, handing TJ a mug of tea. “We have food. And like, a bed.”

Cyrus felt his moist pants clinging to his legs, and put his tea on the counter in favour of looking through the box of dusty clothes TJ had retrieved from the closet.

He grabbed both a pair of pants and a hoodie that were way too big for him, so he rolled up the legs of the pants, and didn’t even bother with the sleeves of the hoodie. His arms and legs were full of little bruises, and he had a nasty one developing on his thigh, because of his many, _many_ tumbles over the course of the day.

“You look… comfy,” TJ said with raised eyebrows, sipping his tea.

“Alright, Mister Fashion Sense, you can be a dick about what I wear the day you throw out your ever growing collection of ridiculous hoodies.”

“Fuck off, you love my hoodies.”

“That’s debatable,” Cyrus grabbed his tea off the counter and made sure not to spill any when he gave TJ a friendly shove.

He moved past TJ, put his tea down on the ground and lied down on the couch.

“You know what I’m pissed about?” TJ sat down on the other edge of the couch, also putting his feet up, so their legs were tangled in the middle, “It’s fondue night in the hotel.”

“Hmm,” Cyrus said, “But we have a delightful meal of bottled water, canned pineapple, canned beans in tomato sauce and crackers here. It’s practically a five star restaurant.”

TJ groaned, also putting his tea on the ground, and dramatically putting his arm over his eyes. “Sounds _great_. Fondue doesn’t even begin to compare to the culinary masterpiece that is canned pineapple and _crackers_.”

“If you behave, I might even make us a hot chocolate special with water and powder packets.” Cyrus said in a suave voice, obviously trying to make TJ laugh.

“You’re the light of my life,” TJ snorted, looking at Cyrus from under his arm, “we’re just going to have to try not to kill each other the coming days.”

Cyrus kicked his shin. “It’s not like I don’t want to kill you on other days.”

 

-

 

“It’s never going to work.”

“It will work any minute now.”

“You’re wasting our time,” Cyrus huffed, tapping his foot in annoyance, “you’ve been twisting buttons on that stupid thing for twenty minutes now and it has only produced static.”

TJ put the old radio down on the counter with a sigh. It had been doing jack shit since he found it in the closet, behind some board games, that also looked promising. Cyrus had promised to teach him how to play chess for a while now, and they had _a lot_ of time to practice.

“Don’t belittle the one source of entertainment we might have.”

“Yes, TJ, it’s _very_ entertaining watching you fucking with a machine that clearly doesn’t want to cooperate.” Cyrus said in a sarcastic tone.

“You wound me, Goodman.”

“Well, you’re an idiot, Kippen.”

TJ huffed and turned back to the radio, that, by a God ordained miracle, stuttered out some noises. TJ let out a _very manly_ squeal and tweaked the biggest button a bit more, so it produced an impressively clear sound, even though there was a bit of remaining grain and static.

“Your move, Cyrus.”

Cyrus turned red, but managed to hide it by defiantly walking to the cupboard and starting to take out cans for dinner.

“Well, I stand by what I said. You’re still an idiot. Now, do we want beans on crackers, or beans on rice crackers?”

“I don’t want any beans at all.”

“Alright, so do you want soup or something?”

TJ’s head perked up from behind the radio, that was playing an unrecognizable guitar tune. His hair was all dishevelled from the skiing, the storm, and constantly messing it up himself while working on the radio. Cyrus resisted the sudden urge to fix it.

“What kind?”

Cyrus took multiple boxes of soup out of the cupboard. “There’s carrot, tomato, more carrot, chicken and… asparagus.”

“Chicken please,” TJ said, turning back to his radio, switching the stations until he landed on a song he knew.

“Cyrus! It’s that song we liked when we were twelve!”

“Shut up, it’s not,” Cyrus came closer to the radio, and realised it was, “oh, yeah, sorry, you’re totally right.”

He stood there for a while, holding an unopened packets of chicken noodle soup, and another packet, this time tomato flavoured, just listening to the tune coming out of the beat up old radio, and indulging in their shared nostalgia.

“I can’t believe you got me into Sting at age twelve.” TJ said, hesitantly turning the volume up, trying not to break what he had just fixed. “And I can’t believe we were going hard to a song about the Cold War.”

“God, we were such angsty little bitches back then.” Cyrus said, amused at how delicately TJ was handling his newfound project.

“You’re still an angsty little bitch.”

“Make your own soup.” Cyrus threw the soup packet at TJ, who expertly caught it and immediately threw it back in a neat little arch, easy enough for Cyrus to catch. “Asshole.”

TJ kept poking at the radio, that eventually produced a crystal-clear sound. “I think you mean genius.”

“Shut up!” Cyrus laughed, pouring a bottle of water in the kettle, not at all trusting the water coming out of the tap, turning around and watching TJ while he waited for the water to boil. “Has Buffy sent anything else?”

“No, but there’s a text message from about everyone else we know.”

“What? Let me see.”

And indeed, many had expressed their concern, wishing them good luck, including a lengthy text from Amber, a similar one from Andi, and one from Jonah, that was just a whole bunch of emoji’s followed by a single question mark.

“I don’t have the energy to reply right now.” Cyrus said, placing the phone on the counter and resuming his position by the kettle.

“Maybe, we should start to conserve power, because as far as I know there are no chargers here and your phone has already dropped to 78%.”

“Splendid idea, also saves me from answering anyone.”

“I think you should answer, or they’ll think we’re dead,” TJ said, taking the phone from Cyrus, “do you want me to answer?”

“Go ahead,” Cyrus said, inspecting the kettle that seemed unresponsive, “make sure to say that we’re turning the phone off to conserve battery life.”

“Good idea.”

The kettle, that looked about a hundred years old, finally gave off steam, and Cyrus opened the packets, and poured both the powder and the piping hot water into bowls. He brought TJ his bowl and they ate together on the couch, occasionally cracking a joke, but staying mostly silent.

Cyrus put his bowl on the ground, next to his empty mug that he’d left there earlier in the day. He stretched and his sleeves dropped down, exposing his arms.

“You’ve taken a lot of nasty falls today, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your arms are full of bruises.”

Cyrus studied his right arm, and indeed, it was littered with small bruises, because of the many, _many_ times he’d tried to break his fall with his arm.

“Well, you know what they say,” Cyrus said, before pausing to think of something people said, “they’re just party tattoos.”

“I love that. Where did you get that?”

Cyrus yawned, pulling his legs up on the couch and turning his body around so he could lay his head on TJ’s lap.

“A song, I think.”

TJ carefully placed his bowl on the ground in favour of gently carding his fingers through Cyrus’ hair, who was thoroughly enjoying the attention. TJ was glad Cyrus was laying on his lap, and couldn’t feel his chest, or how fast his heart was beating.

Cyrus was spinning a tale about how Buffy and Andi had left him in a food court when they spotted Jonah Beck on the other side, and TJ was trying his hardest to listen, but couldn’t help but just look at the other boy.

But when the conversation died out and Cyrus’ eyes started to flutter close, TJ decided that enough was enough and it was time for bed.

“You can take the bed today, I’ll take the sofa,” TJ said to a sleepy Cyrus, who was looking through the box of clothes in pursuit of anything resembling pyjamas.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Teej, it’s a double, we can share. Also, I think this is your size.”

He held up a gigantic blue shirt with the words “I love it when my wife lets me play videogames” printed on it in neon green font.

“Very funny,” TJ said, starting to look through the box himself, and settling for a regular black t-shirt, that _maybe_ was a women’s fit, and _also maybe_ was a size too small for him. It was a bit uncomfortable under the arms and exposed a fair bit of stomach, and his hipbones, but Cyrus had once mentioned in passing that he liked it when TJ wore tight shirts, so TJ felt like it was a passable fashion choice.

Cyrus went for a soccer jersey of a random club in New Jersey, following TJ to bed.

“I feel really, really gross not brushing my teeth.”

“Imagine how you’re going to feel when there’s no clean underwear for you tomorrow.”

“Gross,” Cyrus said, scrunching up his nose, “really fucking gross, Teej.”

“Maybe there are toothbrushes in the bathroom?”

Low and behold, TJ found a drawer with some still packaged toothbrushes and a full tube of toothpaste, as well as several near-empty ones.

“How many people use this cabin if that tube is empty?”

“Not a lot, I hope.” TJ said with his mouth full of toothpaste.

They brushed their teeth in silence, returning to the room. Cyrus got into bed, but TJ noticeably hesitated.

“Are you sure you want to share?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cyrus said, taking TJ’s hand and tugging him into the bed with him.

TJ lied down next to Cyrus, still holding his hand, both boys sharing a silent moment that neither wanted to interrupt.

“You did great today, by the way,” TJ said, lightly squeezing Cyrus’ hand, “it’s stupid that we were interrupted by the blizzard, because you were picking everything up really fast.”

“Thanks,” Cyrus said, squeezing back, “I really appreciate that you offered to teach me instead of having fun with the others.”

“It would have been no fun without you anyway, Underdog.”

Cyrus smiled and let go of TJ’s hand.

“Good night, Teej.”

“Good night, Cy.”

 

-

 

Cyrus woke to a comfortable heat plastered against his back.

“Time to get up, TJ. Let go of me,” Cyrus struggled against TJ who had thrown an arm around him in his sleep and was apparently very reluctant to let go. “It’s time for breakfast!”

“What kind of breakfast do we even have here?” TJ groaned, with his head half buried in Cyrus’ shoulder and the other half in Cyrus’ pillow.

“Rice crackers, canned fruit and tea,” Cyrus chirped, trying to sound as optimistic as possible.

“They’re probably having like… croissants in the hotel. With _actual_ fresh fruit and coffee and…”

Cyrus poked him between the ribs, causing TJ to jolt upright. “Well, we’re not in the hotel right now, are we?”

“Nope, we’re snowed in in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yes, so you should stop moping and get up.”

TJ pouted, but pushed himself up out of bed and walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Cyrus put on water for tea and took out rice crackers and canned peaches from the cupboard, put them on the counter and waited for TJ to be done, so he could use the bathroom.

“Your turn,” TJ came out of the bathroom with wet hair and an expression that was at least a little more awake. “Ooh, are those peaches?”

“Yup, you can open them, but don’t start without me, though,” Cyrus said, walking into the bathroom.

“I wouldn’t dare,” TJ called back, and started twisting the buttons on his radio again, that produced clear music right away this time. “Look at this. I am _clearly_ a technological genius. I have proven myself to be a tech prodigy, put on this earth for the sole purpose of fixing radios.”

“You’re an idiot!” Cyrus yelled from the bathroom.

“That’s rude,” TJ said to Cyrus who came out of the bathroom, wiping some toothpaste from the corner of his mouth.

“The truth hurts, TJ,” Cyrus said, checking on the kettle, that was done with boiling, so Cyrus carefully poured the scalding water into mugs and dropped a teabag in each, while TJ figured out a way to open the can of peaches.

“You know, it’s really great that we won’t starve to death here,” TJ said, cracking open the can, and immediately popping half a peach in his mouth, “but who would’ve thought that we would ever depend on canned fruit.”

Cyrus snorted, taking a careful sip of his tea before deciding that the flavour hadn’t soaked in enough yet, and it was _way_ too hot.

“You know, my dad does, I think,” Cyrus voiced his thoughts out loud, “he keeps a whole pile of that shit stored in the basement in case of emergencies.”

“That’s both really smart and really weird.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

TJ poured out the peach juice, that neither of them wanted to drink and put the contents of the can in a bowl. He took out ten rice crackers and put them on a plate, making a mental note to do the dishes later that day, because all of their mugs and bowls had started to pile up and made a little and unpleasant pile in the sink.

They took their food and tea and moved to the couch.

“You know, considering that I could’ve gotten stuck here with anybody on the ski trip, I’m glad it’s you,” TJ said, munching on a rice cracker, “I really think we’re going to get out of here without killing each other.”

“Yeah, imagine you getting stuck here with Buffy,” Cyrus said, cringing at the hypothetical situation, “she’d kill you within the first five hours.”

“Probably,” TJ said, pulling his feet up on the couch and facing Cyrus.

Cyrus’ face darkened. “But if you were skiing with Buffy yesterday, then we wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t have touched my skis, let alone set foot on a slope and we’d be in the hotel eating croissants, or whatever the fuck.”

“Where did _that_ come from?” TJ frowned, “Don’t tell me you actually think that?”

“Well, it’s true isn’t it? If I wasn’t so fucking _mediocre_ at everything, you wouldn’t have to take time to teach me again, and again, and again. And what do you get out of it?”

“I get to spend time with my best friend.” TJ shuffled closer to Cyrus, putting a hesitant arm around his shoulders. He let out a silent sigh of relief when Cyrus didn’t pull away, but instead curled into his embrace. “I meant it yesterday when I said that it wouldn’t have been any fun without you, you know. I wouldn’t want to be off skiing with Buffy and Jonah and leave you in the hotel for the entire day.”

Cyrus smiled sadly, allowing himself to let his head drop on TJ’s shoulder, staring up at the ceiling.

“But you have helped me with doing a somersault and mini golf and doing a cartwheel and now skiing. Doesn’t it get boring, constantly having to teach me basic stuff?”

“No, you could never bore me.” TJ said, tightening his hold on Cyrus.

Cyrus snorted, effectively ruining the moment. “I’d like those words on paper now, so I can show them to you when we’ve been stuck here for three days.”

“They’ll come get us tomorrow at last, Underdog, don’t you worry, you’ll stay interesting to me.”

TJ stood up abruptly, leaving a confused Cyrus on the sofa. He walked over to the radio, turning up the volume on the random Ed Sheeran song that was playing.

“You can teach me a basic skill now,” TJ said with glittering eyes, clearly thinking that he’d found the solution to Cyrus’ sudden slump, “I’m an awful dancer.”

“I’m no good either,” Cyrus laughed, letting TJ pull him up from the couch with little struggle.

“Bullshit! I’ve seen your moves at your Bash Mitzvah, you’re a great dancer!”

TJ took both of Cyrus’ hands, and he moved their arms back and forth, as if he was imitating a saw.

“Nice moves, Kippen,” he said sarcastically, “you’re going to woo everyone with the back-and-forth arm sway move.”

“Well, that’s why I asked you to teach me, you idiot.” TJ laughed, twirling Cyrus around, “If I wanted to slow dance, how should I go about that?”

“This isn’t music to slow dance to,” Cyrus laughed, but got TJ in position nonetheless.

“Bullshit, it’s Ed Sheeran, everybody loves to slow to Ed Sheeran. Amber told me.”

Cyrus laughed and threw his arms around TJ’s neck, and started gently swaying back and forth on the spot, making a tiny circle.

“So, is this dancing?” TJ whispered in a mock-serious tone.

“I mean, this is slow dancing,” Cyrus whispered back, “I never said that slow dancing was fun.”

“Oh, I’m having fun, Underdog,” TJ said, purposefully moving off-beat.

“I’m _not_ having fun if you’re stepping on my toes.”

“Shut up,” TJ smiled down at Cyrus, who seemed to be in a much better mood than before. They swayed around on the spot for a few more moments, and eventually fell still when Ed Sheeran’s voice died out and was replaced by the radio host.

They stood there for a while, frozen in dance position, Cyrus’ arms around TJ’s neck, TJ’s hands holding Cyrus’ waist, before they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

TJ pulled Cyrus into a hug, and felt the stress that had been quietly building seep out of both of them. Cyrus buried his face in TJ’s shoulder, and TJ gently stroked his fingers up and down Cyrus’ back.

“Back to breakfast?” TJ whispered, putting his chin on Cyrus’ head.

“In a minute,” Cyrus replied, holding on even tighter.

 

-

 

“Has Buffy sent anything?” TJ asked from inside the bathroom.

“I’ll check! Also, don’t talk to me while you’re on the toilet,” Cyrus yelled back, grabbing his phone and turning it on.

He was greeted by an explosion of text messages, three missed calls from both sets of parents and two from TJ’s parents. There were multiple texts from a number that he presumed to be their teacher, sending him weather updates and motivational texts. Buffy had also sent them some general updates, and one text that made Cyrus break out into a smile.

“Teej! Buffy says that she thinks they’re sending a rescue crew tomorrow!” He waved the phone at TJ, who hurried out of the bathroom. “Also, we _really_ need to call our parents.”

 

-

 

“Now, do you remember what this is?”

“The… Uh… Bishop?”

Cyrus nodded and put the chess piece down on the board. “And how does it move?”

“Diagonal.”

“Exactly. Now we have all the pieces on the board. You’re white, so you start.”

TJ hesitantly moved a pawn two places forward, as Cyrus had told him to do. Cyrus followed by moving a pawn of his own.

Cyrus sat on the couch, and TJ sat on the ground, so they could face each other over the coffee table.

They played for a while; Cyrus found himself correcting TJ a lot, and kept the game going when it probably could’ve been over in five minutes or less, but didn’t have any choice but to win.

“And… Checkmate.”

“I don’t understand it.”

“This is your first time playing, you’ll get it when you do it more.”

TJ stretched his arms above his head and Cyrus spotted a sliver of abs and blushed and turned away to clear away the chess game when TJ caught him looking.

“So, what do you want to do for dinner? If this is our last night here, I say we go all out and crack open the cans of spaghetti.”

“Dude! Did we have spaghetti this entire time?”

“Yeah, but I only found it this morning.”

TJ stood up from the ground, and lied down on the sofa with his head in Cyrus’ lap, like the other boy had done the night before.

Cyrus started carding his fingers through TJ’s hair, lightly scratching his scalp.

“I really like it when you don’t put all of that gel stuff in.”

“Good to know,” TJ said, smiling up at Cyrus, who felt his heart beating in his throat.

“So,” Cyrus scraped his throat, “are you excited to go back to normality tomorrow?”

TJ hummed, closing his eyes.

“Not bored of me yet?” Cyrus joked, lightly jerking his legs, so TJ would look at him.

“Never.” TJ smiled, lightly tapping the tip of Cyrus’ nose with his finger.

Cyrus stopped playing with TJ’s hair and put his hands on TJ’s chest, feeling the warm and worn out fabric of his borrowed hoodie. TJ closed his eyes again, but brought his hand up to play with Cyrus’ fingers.

“Do you think it’ll be awkward when we get back?” Cyrus asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Because we’ve been around each other all of the time,” he scrunched up his nose, “do you think we’ll need like, a break from each other?”

TJ smiled, taking Cyrus’ hand in his, slotting their fingers together.

“Nope, I will never need a break from you,” TJ said, looking up at Cyrus, “you’re like, my favourite person.”

“I’ll never need a break from you either,” Cyrus whispered.

TJ slowly sat upright, holding on tight to Cyrus’ hand. They looked at each other for a while, neither of them wanting to break eye contact.

“Cyrus, I want to try something,” TJ said, letting go of Cyrus altogether, “you can tell me to stop, okay?”

Cyrus nodded and watched TJ inch closer to him on the couch. He gently took Cyrus’ chin in his hand, tilting it upwards.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Cyrus whispered, closing his eyes when he felt TJ putting a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

TJ kissed next to Cyrus’ eye, and on both his cheeks, inspecting for any sign of struggle or discontent, but when that did not happen, he slowly leaned in and pressed their lips together. He felt Cyrus hold his breath under him, and started to pull back to scope out his reaction, but Cyrus blindly chased him to press their lips together again.

TJ could feel Cyrus smile into the kiss and couldn’t help but smile himself. He pulled back a bit, pressing their foreheads together. For a while they just sat there, on the sofa, breathing in each other’s air. Cyrus’ breath smelled like peaches and the chamomile tea they had been drinking earlier, which made TJ self-conscious about how his breath smelled, so he dove back in, firmly kissing Cyrus, who gratefully reciprocated the kiss.

 

-

 

“Boys! Are you in here? TJ? Cyrus?”

Cyrus woke up to the sound of someone banging on the door, and groggily lifted his head from TJ’s chest to locate the source of the noise.

“Teej! Wake up! They’re here for us.”

TJ groaned and rolled over, rubbing his eyes.

“Come on, if we go with them now, then we can maybe get some proper breakfast at the hotel.”

Cyrus took TJ’s hands and pulled him upright, which made TJ, who clearly was still half asleep, frown at him. Cyrus kissed TJ’s frown, reminding himself that _he was allowed to do that now_ , and straight after gave TJ a proper good-morning kiss, which made TJ _finally_ open his eyes, and look at him.

“They’ve come to get us, Teej.” Cyrus whispered, brushing the hair off of TJ’s forehead, “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this was kinda an entry for 12 days of tyrus but not really because i am sooo busy and can't possibly write twelve fics rn, so this can be considered as my day four: snow.
> 
> this fic was kinda based on a ficlet i had started writing back in october where tj teaches cyrus how to ski, but it ended up going nowhere and i incorporated it at the start. I started that initial fic because i really wanted to write a sports fic, but i thought i didn't really know anything about a sport, so i was kinda bummed out about that before i realised that i am literally a licensed ski instructor that teaches people to ski every month. it was also based on my real life stay in an emergency cabin in italy when we got yeeted off of the slopes by an avalanche. i did upgrade the interior of the emergency cabin because the one i stayed in was a literal hut
> 
> this fic was written for, and based on a prompt by @tyrus-time on tumblr, who is a great author, you should def check their fics out, because they're great, and i hope i did your prompt justice Ash! i didn't expect this to grow into a 5k fic lol
> 
> anyway, you can find me on tumblr at [nineteenohtwo](https://nineteenohtwo.tumblr.com/), you can come say hi there, my prompts are always open :)
> 
> please leave a comment telling me what you thought, they always make my day!


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